Blue Edged Flames
by J. Morasca
Summary: Because mommy always said never to play with matches. Post OOTP. SLASH.


Severus Snape never had time for a social life. It could have been a number of things. For starters, he wasn't that attractive. He was impossible to get along with, that was another thing. He was very structured in his way of thinking and anyone who did not meet his level of intellectual philosophy, was, in short, not worthy of his time.

Besides. Women got in the way of work.

It was late, possibly around one in the morning. Severus decided to be generous with the dark and say it was about half past midnight, maybe a quarter to a new hour. Whatever. What did it matter? Sleep was for the weak. The ones who need to release the stress by foolish fantasies. He gave a slight snort and leaned over more prominently on his desk. There was work to be done.

His hooked nose almost touching his paper, his greasy black hair sprayed out like little spiders, he dipped his white feather quill into the ink until it was saturated with ebony ink. _Hannah Abbot, _he wrote,_ Intelligent, for a Hufflepuff. Could stand for improvement, especially in chopping and mincing the ingredients. 6.5/10_

Snape frowned at his paper. He was working on his annual analysis of students. He loved scribbling their flaws on private pieces of parchment, knowing that he had their weaknesses in his own private collection to review and laugh at in his own leisure. He went down the list of names, skipping some exceptionally bright people, like Granger, until he found one who would make his quill work.

Potter.

He gave a delightful smirk. He dipped his quill into the ink eagerly, almost tipping over the bottle completely. _Has some sort of special tone-deafness that prevents him from following directions. Messy, sloppy student. Weak in stirring, chopping/mincing ingredients, simmering. Talks back when reprimanded. Never listens. Also, he--_

"Professor?" A small voice broke the reverie inside Snape's head. His hand slipped as his heart skipped a beat, causing a black streak across Harry's review. He looked up to see a taut fifteen-year old boy with untidy black hair and anxious jade eyes.

The teacher's own black eyes diminished to two paper thin slits. "Potter?" A pause. "What the hell do you want? By God, you better have a good reason or I'll be at Dumbledore's so fast--"

"I was on my way to Dumbledore, actually. But I saw your light on. I just wanted to see if everything was--was alright." Harry had pajama pants on that was too big for his body. It was bunched up around his buttocks and crotch area.

"How lovely. Did you bring a biscuit? Some tea? I daresay, we can catch up on old times."

Harry cleared his throat, choosing to ignore the insult. "Everything alright then, I take it?"

"Does it look like everything's alright? Yes, ignorant boy, everything is fine. Now I believe it is my turn to ask a question. Why is so important that you see the headmaster at this hour of the night?"

"I…had a nightmare. Thought I should report it."

"Poor baby. Does little Potter need a kiss on his forehead and a special tuck-in? Such special treatment is not above you, Harry."

Harry's eyes flickered around the dungeon. "Envious that nobody else in the Order trusts you?"

"_What did you say to me_?"

The Boy-Who-Lived smirked. "Oh, come on. You're lucky that Dumbledore is trusting. Remus doesn't trust you, the Weasleys don't, Sirius didn't--Please. Leopards don't change their spots. Dark Marks never come off."

Snape jumped up from his desk and had his wand pointed right in target with Harry's forehead. "_Get in here. NOW._" Harry trembled, but crossed the threshold of the dungeon.

"Foolish boy. You watch your turn. You are not repeat what goes on in your family." He paused, licking his lips. "Oh, I'm sorry. You don't have a family. How silly of me."

Harry let out a shout as he ran over Snape's desk and landed on top of him, attempting to stab him with his wand, rather then curse him. Snape grabbed Harry by the wrists so tightly that the teenager was withering in pain. "Isn't this a nice compromising position?" Snape asked. "What would the Headmaster say?"

"He'd say you're a perverted fuck, now let me go!" Harry roared, trying to kick Snape all over. As muscular as he was, he was no match for Snape. Giving another sly smile, Snape let go of Harry's wrist and thrust him to the opposite side of the room, hitting his head on a wall.

The Potions Master watched with blank expression as Harry came to and feel the bump on his head that was increasing in size. "Idiot," he hissed. "Didn't your Mudblood mother ever tell you not to play with matches?"

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" Harry asked, feeling his hand become increasingly soaked with the blood from the gash on his head.

All of a sudden, Snape was now on top of Harry. "Because no matter how dangerous the flame is, the heat is just too tempting."

Harry never did make it to Dumbledore that night.

END


End file.
